Strangers in a Bar
by Casey Wolfe
Summary: Johns was still new to hunting cons on his own. Riddick's name wasn't exactly infamous yet. A chance meeting in a bar brings them together. [Slash, Pre-Canon]


Johns sighed in aggravation, slamming his shot of whiskey back down to the bar top a little harder than was necessary. His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing at the man next to him. The guy just couldn't take a hint and it was getting to the point that Johns was about to turn physical. Seriously, who angered someone with a shotgun strapped to their thigh?

"What part was confusing for you?" the merc asked. "The part where I said 'no' or the one where I told you to 'fuck off'?" Johns wasn't interested in the _least _with what this guy had to offer. Looking past the fact the guy smelled like he lived in a bottle, he wasn't exactly his type- all slim frame and no muscle. Johns wanted men that were equal to him- or better- not ones that needed protecting.

"Aww, come on man…" The guy slid his hand up Johns' arm, resulting in a growl. The blonde grabbed his hand, slamming it to the bar and causing the creep to yelp. The distinct crack of bones was heard and Johns' teeth were bared.

Bending his wrist and fingers backwards to a painful angle, Johns snarled, "Touch me again and these will go in a jar on my ship."

"Fuck man," the man whimpered, clutching his injured hand to his chest when let go. At least he was quick to scamper away after that, only for another guy to take his place.

"For the love of God," Johns muttered, rounding on the new taker. "What the fuck do you want?!"

Not that this one had the chance to make a pass at him as an arm slipped around Johns' waist from the other side. Fists clenched, he was about to take a swing and just lay out every last fucker in the joint. Except he froze when he laid eyes on the forward stranger.

This one was big- wider than him with a bit more extra muscle. He wasn't bulky though, no, he wore the size well. His sharp dark eyes were pinned on the guy trying to bother Johns, scowling at him before turning his gaze to the blonde. His features softened, the hint of a smile on his lips. When he spoke, his voice was like gravel, traveling down his spine.

"Sorry I'm late babe," he said, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Hope no one was bothering you." His eyes flicked over to the other man pointedly.

Johns snorted, following his gaze with his own scowl. "No," he answered. "Think this one was just leaving." The man took the hint, leaving while he had the chance. "Thanks," he told the stranger.

"No problem." He released Johns, inclining his head in invitation.

Curious, the blonde snagged his shot from the bar and threw it back before ordering a beer. When he joined the stranger at a dark table in the back, he found him enjoying his own drink. One sniff told him it was moonshine and Johns wished the guy luck with that one. "Johns," he introduced as he took a seat next to him.

"Riddick," he answered. There was a smirk on his face as he inquired, "Have that problem a lot?"

"Getting hit on?" Johns snorted, taking a swig of his beer. "Usually not so bad." He shrugged, adding, "And not always unwanted."

Riddick grinned then, reminiscent of a predator. "Yeah? Why not tonight?"

"Haven't found anything I like," was the teasing answer, his blue eyes looking over the other man pointedly.

That caused him to chuckle. "That so?"

"Well, wasn't really lookin' for company anyway," Johns admitted, settling back in his chair further as he took another drink. "Just needed to have some earth time. Been spacing too long." It might have been good enough for his father, but as he'd been telling Boss for a couple years now, Johns wasn't him.

It had really been inevitable that he'd split from Boss' merc team to go his own way. Johns felt he was doing good for himself. There weren't many mercs who hunted alone but it wasn't like he'd found anyone he considered trustworthy enough to hunt with outside his dad's crew. Still, even being a one-man team, he was catching cons that other mercs wouldn't even touch and he'd never failed to bag someone he'd set out after. With his growing rep, and his father's contacts, he figured he was doing damn good indeed.

"Just passing through then," Riddick noted.

Johns nodded. "You?" It was a fairly large transport hub and most everyone was simply stopping over on the way to their final destinations.

"Same."

A comfortable silence settled between them and he took the time to observe Riddick a bit more closely. He wore a simple tank top which showed off the muscles of his arms. Johns watched the way they flexed as the man stretched. It was easy for the merc to admire him- he was built like a tank and he had a really nice face as well.

Riddick smiled knowingly, catching him looking. "Care to get outta here?"

Johns was very familiar with one-night stands and wasn't about to pretend the offer wasn't appealing. He may not have been looking for company when he stopped by the bar but he wouldn't turn it down from someone like Riddick. "Yeah."

The pair stumbled into Riddick's motel room, a flurry of clothing being shed, lips and hands exploring exposed flesh. Mostly what Johns could recall was the burn of teeth on his neck, his shoulder, the bruises left at his hips, the rough coupling that left him hoarse crying out Riddick's name. It was one of the best nights he'd ever had.

Unfortunately with dawn light he found himself alone, any trace of Riddick vanished like the night. It would be months until he heard that name again, in a call from Slam City.

/End


End file.
